


obsession/indifference.

by softgay



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgay/pseuds/softgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't necessarily like each other, but they don't mind the company. It's an affair driven by instinct and similar interests, nothing more. They don't mind each other, but they tell no one.</p><p>Trip comes down with the common cold and Noiz is there for him.</p><p>“I thought idiots couldn’t catch colds.”</p><p>“Hey, you shut up, Pincushion-kun.”</p><p>They both have gotten pretty good at enabling this bad habit of theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	obsession/indifference.

So, there’s just as many different types of sneezes as there are people, right? You’ve got the _Kitten With A Snotgun_ sneeze, pew pew pew. Rapid-fire succession. Potentially cute, kinda annoying. Sounds like an aggressive squeak toy. But then you’ve got _The Dad_ sneeze. You know the one. Loud and mildly terrifying, a hilarious war cannon of a sneeze.

And then there’s Trip’s. A combination of the two.

Out of the corner of his eye, Noiz watches Trip in stifled amusement, unable to hold back a smirk. Trip certainly wasn’t holding back, blowing his brains out into the pastel pink tissue. The whole room seemed to shake with Trip’s germy detonations. Noiz made sure to keep his distance.

“I thought idiots couldn’t catch colds.”

“ _Hey_ , you shut up, Pincushion-kun.”

Noiz lets out a chuckle, ignoring the peevish nickname for the time being. Trip glares at him, wiping his nose for the umpteenth time. His ordinarily deep, ‘muscle head’ voice just sounded so nasally and pitiful, that Noiz couldn’t help but be tickled by it.

“Ha, well at least I can breathe just fine.”

Trip heaves a great big sigh at the retort; it sounded croaky and raucous. Looking dejected, he slumps down into the couch, glancing at the disgusting mountain of snot rags and used tissue paper.

“Ugh, we really do take for granted all the times we can breathe through our nose, huh.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“Haha, Virus won’t be too happy when he comes home and finds out I trashed the place.”

“…Does he know I’m here?”

Ever since he stepped foot in this place, Noiz felt like he didn’t exactly. . .belong there, even though he was invited. Something in the air wanted to spit him out and back into the streets. But then again, he felt that way 90% of the time, no matter where he was.

This was a bit different, though. It was like he had arbitrarily crossed over into another dimension, and did not fit the required formula to truly exist. At all. Not even as static in the background.

That wasn’t to say he disliked the aesthetics, by any stretch of the word. Apart from the oppressive atmosphere, it actually suited his tastes, somehow.

The penthouse where Virus and Trip called HQ was classy as it was large, designed in a way that was both simple and modern. Sleek, with a monochromatic color scheme. Cold. Cold and efficient.

While awkwardly standing around, Noiz scans this new environment, trying to acquire as much information as possible, relying on just visuals alone. There was not one trace of anything warm or personal. Noiz’s musky apartment back in the West District was small in comparison to such opulence, but it was quite similar, at least in this respect.

Try as you might, you will not find one photograph of the past he left behind. It’s simply a den for recuperation and isolation, nothing more. Unlike his childhood cage however, he has his own key, now. Comes and goes as he pleases.

Trip’s eyes are chained onto Noiz, gazing at him contemptuously like a lion would watch a rabbit sniff its surroundings. While Noiz was busy looking elsewhere, Trip grins a mischievous grin, showing teeth.

“Mmmm. What about Aoba? Does he know you’re here?”

One namedrop, and Noiz’s body goes rigid. He freezes up as if his own soul had been sucked right out.

Slowly, Noiz turns his attention back onto Trip, a dangerous look in his eyes.

On the outside, Trip appears to be innocuously oblivious and groggy. Nothing unusual. But on the inside, _the inside_ , he’s relishing Noiz’s reaction. He’s eating it up. Down to the tiniest of details, like the sweat on his brow, and the tension building up in his fists, all balled up and ready to punch his lights out.

Trip knows he’s struck a nerve, and he loves it. Bingo! Checkmate. Whatever, he’s grinning without any remorse.

“Tch. What, that guy’s not my keeper. Who cares.”

 “Oho, well, did ya think me and Virus were married or somethin’? I’m not kept on a leash either, y’know.”

“…Fair enough.”

After some grumbling and glaring daggers at nothing, Noiz makes a decision, joining Trip on the couch. At this, Trip’s smile grows wider, as if surprised yet satisfied. At first, he makes no sudden movements. He doesn’t want to spook the rabbit.

Although there’s definitely some hesitation, Noiz eventually settles comfortably against Trip’s chest. Trip draws him into his lap, his large arms constricting around Noiz’s lithe torso. They sit together like that, not saying a word. Their actions animate an unspoken affinity.  

Noiz has his mouth on Trip’s neck, leaving a moist kiss and a dark mark. Trip hums in delight, caressing a rough hand over Noiz’s stomach, lifting up his shirt to expose him. His other hand curves along Noiz’s inner thigh, groping the taut muscle there.

This all started when he had accompanied Virus to another Rhyme outbreak. They were there purely on business, there to observe and collect data.

One punk kid stood out like a sore thumb, his reckless victories inspiring nostalgia. It was frightening and exciting, just like back then. Sure, there was no brain damage involved; that was the only ingredient missing. Noiz did not possess _his_ grand ability after all, but still. Trip’s interest was piqued.

After witnessing several more of his matches, Noiz began to recognize Trip among the spectators, and started to seek him out.

Make no mistake, they never chatted like good friends, but they did not mind each other’s presence. Sometimes, they would sneak off together in secret and meet up in unsavory alleyways… That’s how it _began_ , anyway.

They both have gotten pretty good at enabling this bad habit of theirs.

Noiz is now straddling Trip, on the couch _Virus_ bought and picked out, and he’s got his hands full with an erect cock. He pumps him hard and good, and Trip’s breath is hot on his neck. Trip is grasping him so tightly, that his nails are digging into his sides, clawing up his skin. It stings and almost feels good.

But even though he’s listless as he’s doing this, Noiz wears a complex expression; he’s still bothered by what Trip said and he can’t fathom why.

 “Since we’re on the subject, I was wondering,” Noiz says, without slacking on the handjob. “You two seem pretty obsessed with him. Why are you guys always following him around, anyway?”

The question doesn’t catch him off guard at all—if anything, he’s pleased and perplexed. Noiz never talks during their quickies, so he really must’ve pushed the wrong button. This is endlessly entertaining. He doesn’t answer right away, pretending to be too _absorbed_ in the pleasure. Though it’s partly true.

He moans with some laughter mixed in, bucking into Noiz’s hand as he speaks.

“ _Ahhh_ aha! That’s funny, because to us, it looks like _you’re_ the one who’s always following Aoba. Heh, you _stalker_.” He licks his lips as he goads Noiz, not missing the little twitch of annoyance in his brow, nor that angry pout. “You sure you’re not the one who’s obsessed?”

With his patience all spent, Noiz grips onto Trip’s member harder than you ever should grip genitalia, giving it a nice twist and a yank. Two things come out of Trip after that: a very colorful word and a dollop of cum.

Trip should have expected something like that, but by the time it occurred to him it was of course too late. If he had a conscience, it might also occur to him that he probably deserved that.

Without even batting an eye, Noiz reaches over for the very last tissue in the very last box, wiping his hands clean.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m curious as to why he beat me in Rhyme. That’s all there is to it.”

Trip doesn’t look up, not until he’s dead certain his dick won’t fall off. But, he remembers, _that’s right_. This kid here’s notorious for Drive-By Rhyme battles. Aoba became one of his targets, and thanks to that, Aoba was forced to use…

Trip pulls his pajama pants back up, cocking his head to the side to regard Noiz with a look that can only be described as childish certitude.

“Look, we’ve known Aoba longer than you. We’re just his _fans_.”

Noiz scowls at him with obvious acrimony and confusion. That look was unnerving for some reason, but mostly, it was just getting on his nerves.

 “You know something, don’t you? You’re gonna tell me.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Trip flops back down into the couch, feigning aloofness. “After you make me some porridge.”

“Hmph. Get Tweedle Dee to play nurse. I can’t cook.”

Trip shrugs and yawns, not even processing that he must be Tweedle Dum. Cinderella was not even a good book.

“Doesn’t matter, can’t taste anything anyway. Be _siiiides_ , Virus is out doing errands.”

Thinking that this guy’s more trouble than he’s worth, Noiz sighs exasperatedly, already pulling up a recipe on his coil. 

“Fine. Just this once.” Maybe he can find the one his maid use to make or something…

“Ah, I sure hope I don’t poison it...” He adds sarcastically, before heading into the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! The prompt was simply _the sniffles_ and the pairing was Trip/Noiz. I actually like the idea of Trip/Noiz quite a bit. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it, even a little bit! 
> 
> ※Also, Trip gets fairy tales and children's stories mixed up.


End file.
